Author's Note: Well, it's just another update no one'll glance at. Is SR dying? Shit. And as for the periods between lines, it's so the formatting doesn't get all clusterfucked like the last two.
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Author's Note 2: I have a sudden urge to write on this a lot! Rejoice!
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Silver Rose 2
by Reno Spiegel
Dante@towernetwork.net
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March 5, 3078
Morning. Stoop. Sector Seven. 7:32 A.M.
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"We need help. And we need it fast. Believe me, as soon as I repay this favor to you, I'll be out of your hair for good this time." Sephiroth
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I'm sitting infront of a rundown building, probably filled with whores and thugs, tapping the Masamune on the ground. I do this not so people know I'm lethal, but so people know they should keep walking and mind their own business. There is a reason I'm sitting here, looking around casually with a nine-foot sword infront of me, and that's to meet one of my contacts.
"Spare a gil?"
And there he is. I turn to see a man, standing tall and looking like a complete bum. He smells like sewer water, and his clothes are next to rags. He's pushing a shopping cart filled with car parts. I shake my head and grin at him. "You look like shit in those clothes, y'know."
"Yeah, I know, but I'm on a lead. Rumor has it you're finally back to repay the favor." The bum sits down next to me and tosses a greasy banana peel at me. Cute. Real cute. He chuckles. "Mind puttin' that in your pocket? You look like shit with it in your lap."
I lay down the Masamune, toss the peel into the street, pull a folder out of my trench, one of two identical that are in there, and hand it to him. The entire layout of the ShinRa Building. All seventy floors, air ducts, and security listings. Not to mention sticky notes telling how our rough draft of planning is going to go. "Should be all you need for now, but I'm going to need to pull you off work next week for awhile. As long as it takes to pull this off. That gonna work?"
"Hell, man, you're an ex-Turk. The Force won't even glance at me twice when I ask." Relief hits me. I had a feeling we could have a problem pulling him out of work, but I guess not. "Well, while we've got a few minutes, how about you let me in on why you stopped working at the firm."
Turner whistles long, then shakes his head. "'Member the case I handled for you?" I nod. "Apparently, it's not legal in Midgar to represent someone if they're your friend. They think something illegal'll happen, only God knows what. So, Miklen got wind of it and kicked me off, under orders of Rufus. Then I just joined the Force in his department, so I still help him with the cases and we still work together. Of course, couldn't join as Rolan, 'cause of the firm name, y'know?"
"I catch your drift. So, what do I call you?" I watch half-interested as a rat scurries over, sniffs the banana peel, then picks it up in its mouth and runs off.
"Cero Kisaragi."
"As in, relative of Godo Kisaragi of Wutai." My interest is piqued. Turner is nowhere near Wutain. He even speaks with a city drawl, not petitely like a Kisaragi would.
He jabs a thumb at me. "Quick little bugger since you turned Turk, eh? I'm his sister's third cousin, if anyone asks. Pay Godo enough and you could get him to call you his father. Now, apparently I'm supposed to be on duty right now. Good to see you, but, ah," he grunts as he stands up, walking over to his cart. "Gotta run."
He turns his back to me and starts down the street before I call out after him. "Hey, Cero!"
He peers over his shoulder. "Eh?"
"What exactly was the favor you paid me?" I was drunk at the time, and I don't remember. He's never told me, and is keeping me waiting.
He just winks at me and keeps on walking.
Moron.
-=-=-=-
The door slides open, a mechanical clicking following it every half-second. Metal grinds on metal and then there's a faint pop when it reaches the end of its journey. I see the back of a man seated at a hard-wood table. His hair, white and falling out, is done back as neatly as possible and I can see a wide grin on his face from here.
Seeing as how my friend is a "relative" of Godo, and we're a group of three ex-Turks with business, the thirty-million gil bail was lowered immensely. With a glare from Rude, we're taking him out for just under eight-thousand. For the past two years, everytime I come to Midgar on business or pleasure, I come to see Mark Baley, the "psycho" at the institution. I now know, you only call someone psychotic if you only get half the story.
Over the past years, to put it short, we've exchanged many stories. Back in the building of Fort Condor, apparently, he and Hojo had worked together on the layout. I promised him, someday, we would come and take him out legally. And here we are, Reno, Rude, and I. His eyes are wide, now seeing for the first time today what he hasn't seen in ten years. He's wearing casual clothes, no more inmate suits. I pat him on the shoulder silently. He stands up, nods firmly, and follows us out. I know why the air is so uneasy. Just after the ShinRa incident, I had come back and told him all that had happened.
"So. . .that SOLDIER you killed, he was protecting Hojo?" he had asked, slowly.
I had shrugged. "I can only assume. And he seemed intent on killing me and Aeris."
"Do me a favor, Sephiroth?"
"Hm?"
He had looked right at me, even from behind his patched up eyes. "Being as how my you killed my son for almost doing something I would have never wanted to hear about. . .when you go to do the "job," y'know. Take me with you."
And nothing else had been said that day. We knew there would be a small barrier to work around, that was no secret. But now, as we finally step out into the dirty air of Midgar, eyes fixed on the large billboard. Rufus' profile on it, and in big, italic white letters it reads, "Support ShinRa, the Foundation of Midgar." You live above them and then tell them to support you while you can't even clean up the litter. Selfish bastard.
Reno walks over, opens the door to the Turk van, and hops in. Rude opens the back and summons Mark over. They get in. Rude will fill Mark in on the way back to the "base," which is really an underground restroom we labelled "Out of Order" and set our stuff up in. The janitor had walked in during one of our sessions. Reno had leapt up, shoved a wad of gil directly into his mouth, and slammed the door on him.
I stare at Rufus for a moment more. Then I flip off the giant poster and hop into the passenger side. The ride through the sector is silent, except for Rude's voice once in awhile drifting up here. Mark is a fast-learner, and even in his old age he has the memory of a computer database. We pull down a ramp in Sector Four and into a parking garage only we use.
Reno pulls into the handicap spots and mutters "Fuckin' cripples" everytime.
We head toward the bathroom immediately. If anyone saw us come down here, they know something's up and we need to keep ourselves hidden. Rude helps Mark out of the truck and across the garage. As soon as we're in said bathroom, we turn and deadbolt the lock. Dais, the Devil himself, is sitting at the card table we have set up, staring at the top of it like a man possessed. Which, as far as we know, he is these days.
"Took you long enough." We don't even reply. Dais is one you don't speak back to. He has an idea, you let him run with it. You have a problem with it, you have a hole in your head. We took a sledgehammer to the wall between the men and women's restrooms. Now it's a large room with leaky faucets, grimy tiles, and boarded-up holes in the ceiling. Mark takes a seat, as does Rude. The second opens his newspaper, as always. Reno draws his weapon and taps it on the wall, ready for some unknown intruder.
"Alright," Reno begins. "I can't give you full details of the plan until Turner Rolan gets here tomorrow, but I can tell you the gist of it. We're going to take out all of ShinRa Incorporated in one easy swipe, and hopefully have our asses back to the Great Glacier before they know what hit 'em. We're all a very talented group of dumbshits here, y'know. We can make this work, even if we don't have an army behind us. We know security, we have layouts, and we have the Force bribed just enough to get away with some minor things. Any questions?"
There's a creaking above us. One boarded hole suddenly gives and a body falls into one of the stalls of the ex-women's bathroom. The door swings shut with a bang and locks. We wait a few seconds. Suddenly, the sound of a fight comes out to us, punches and all. Moron is beating himself up.
I'm about to go over, open it up, and give him a swipe of my sword, but two gunshots blast through the door to the stall. Silence. A heavy thud into the toilet bowel and then a flush makes everyone but Dais look puzzled as all hell. The door clicks to unlocked and Reno and I rush over. We're about to let whoever the second body that came from nowhere was have it, but the door swings open and we see a confusing sight.
Guy Who Fell From Ceiling has been shot through the chest and has his head in the toilet bowel, crushed under the seat. But then, there stands Jinaisim with his gun, drying his hand and it off with a paper towel and looking very pissed. "Bastard blew the surprise."
Reno cracks him one in the knee with the mag-rod.
Fucking morons.
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Author's Note 2: I have a sudden urge to write on this a lot! Rejoice!
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Silver Rose 2
by Reno Spiegel
Dante@towernetwork.net
.
.
.
March 5, 3078
Morning. Stoop. Sector Seven. 7:32 A.M.
.
"We need help. And we need it fast. Believe me, as soon as I repay this favor to you, I'll be out of your hair for good this time." Sephiroth
.
.
I'm sitting infront of a rundown building, probably filled with whores and thugs, tapping the Masamune on the ground. I do this not so people know I'm lethal, but so people know they should keep walking and mind their own business. There is a reason I'm sitting here, looking around casually with a nine-foot sword infront of me, and that's to meet one of my contacts.
"Spare a gil?"
And there he is. I turn to see a man, standing tall and looking like a complete bum. He smells like sewer water, and his clothes are next to rags. He's pushing a shopping cart filled with car parts. I shake my head and grin at him. "You look like shit in those clothes, y'know."
"Yeah, I know, but I'm on a lead. Rumor has it you're finally back to repay the favor." The bum sits down next to me and tosses a greasy banana peel at me. Cute. Real cute. He chuckles. "Mind puttin' that in your pocket? You look like shit with it in your lap."
I lay down the Masamune, toss the peel into the street, pull a folder out of my trench, one of two identical that are in there, and hand it to him. The entire layout of the ShinRa Building. All seventy floors, air ducts, and security listings. Not to mention sticky notes telling how our rough draft of planning is going to go. "Should be all you need for now, but I'm going to need to pull you off work next week for awhile. As long as it takes to pull this off. That gonna work?"
"Hell, man, you're an ex-Turk. The Force won't even glance at me twice when I ask." Relief hits me. I had a feeling we could have a problem pulling him out of work, but I guess not. "Well, while we've got a few minutes, how about you let me in on why you stopped working at the firm."
Turner whistles long, then shakes his head. "'Member the case I handled for you?" I nod. "Apparently, it's not legal in Midgar to represent someone if they're your friend. They think something illegal'll happen, only God knows what. So, Miklen got wind of it and kicked me off, under orders of Rufus. Then I just joined the Force in his department, so I still help him with the cases and we still work together. Of course, couldn't join as Rolan, 'cause of the firm name, y'know?"
"I catch your drift. So, what do I call you?" I watch half-interested as a rat scurries over, sniffs the banana peel, then picks it up in its mouth and runs off.
"Cero Kisaragi."
"As in, relative of Godo Kisaragi of Wutai." My interest is piqued. Turner is nowhere near Wutain. He even speaks with a city drawl, not petitely like a Kisaragi would.
He jabs a thumb at me. "Quick little bugger since you turned Turk, eh? I'm his sister's third cousin, if anyone asks. Pay Godo enough and you could get him to call you his father. Now, apparently I'm supposed to be on duty right now. Good to see you, but, ah," he grunts as he stands up, walking over to his cart. "Gotta run."
He turns his back to me and starts down the street before I call out after him. "Hey, Cero!"
He peers over his shoulder. "Eh?"
"What exactly was the favor you paid me?" I was drunk at the time, and I don't remember. He's never told me, and is keeping me waiting.
He just winks at me and keeps on walking.
Moron.
-=-=-=-
The door slides open, a mechanical clicking following it every half-second. Metal grinds on metal and then there's a faint pop when it reaches the end of its journey. I see the back of a man seated at a hard-wood table. His hair, white and falling out, is done back as neatly as possible and I can see a wide grin on his face from here.
Seeing as how my friend is a "relative" of Godo, and we're a group of three ex-Turks with business, the thirty-million gil bail was lowered immensely. With a glare from Rude, we're taking him out for just under eight-thousand. For the past two years, everytime I come to Midgar on business or pleasure, I come to see Mark Baley, the "psycho" at the institution. I now know, you only call someone psychotic if you only get half the story.
Over the past years, to put it short, we've exchanged many stories. Back in the building of Fort Condor, apparently, he and Hojo had worked together on the layout. I promised him, someday, we would come and take him out legally. And here we are, Reno, Rude, and I. His eyes are wide, now seeing for the first time today what he hasn't seen in ten years. He's wearing casual clothes, no more inmate suits. I pat him on the shoulder silently. He stands up, nods firmly, and follows us out. I know why the air is so uneasy. Just after the ShinRa incident, I had come back and told him all that had happened.
"So. . .that SOLDIER you killed, he was protecting Hojo?" he had asked, slowly.
I had shrugged. "I can only assume. And he seemed intent on killing me and Aeris."
"Do me a favor, Sephiroth?"
"Hm?"
He had looked right at me, even from behind his patched up eyes. "Being as how my you killed my son for almost doing something I would have never wanted to hear about. . .when you go to do the "job," y'know. Take me with you."
And nothing else had been said that day. We knew there would be a small barrier to work around, that was no secret. But now, as we finally step out into the dirty air of Midgar, eyes fixed on the large billboard. Rufus' profile on it, and in big, italic white letters it reads, "Support ShinRa, the Foundation of Midgar." You live above them and then tell them to support you while you can't even clean up the litter. Selfish bastard.
Reno walks over, opens the door to the Turk van, and hops in. Rude opens the back and summons Mark over. They get in. Rude will fill Mark in on the way back to the "base," which is really an underground restroom we labelled "Out of Order" and set our stuff up in. The janitor had walked in during one of our sessions. Reno had leapt up, shoved a wad of gil directly into his mouth, and slammed the door on him.
I stare at Rufus for a moment more. Then I flip off the giant poster and hop into the passenger side. The ride through the sector is silent, except for Rude's voice once in awhile drifting up here. Mark is a fast-learner, and even in his old age he has the memory of a computer database. We pull down a ramp in Sector Four and into a parking garage only we use.
Reno pulls into the handicap spots and mutters "Fuckin' cripples" everytime.
We head toward the bathroom immediately. If anyone saw us come down here, they know something's up and we need to keep ourselves hidden. Rude helps Mark out of the truck and across the garage. As soon as we're in said bathroom, we turn and deadbolt the lock. Dais, the Devil himself, is sitting at the card table we have set up, staring at the top of it like a man possessed. Which, as far as we know, he is these days.
"Took you long enough." We don't even reply. Dais is one you don't speak back to. He has an idea, you let him run with it. You have a problem with it, you have a hole in your head. We took a sledgehammer to the wall between the men and women's restrooms. Now it's a large room with leaky faucets, grimy tiles, and boarded-up holes in the ceiling. Mark takes a seat, as does Rude. The second opens his newspaper, as always. Reno draws his weapon and taps it on the wall, ready for some unknown intruder.
"Alright," Reno begins. "I can't give you full details of the plan until Turner Rolan gets here tomorrow, but I can tell you the gist of it. We're going to take out all of ShinRa Incorporated in one easy swipe, and hopefully have our asses back to the Great Glacier before they know what hit 'em. We're all a very talented group of dumbshits here, y'know. We can make this work, even if we don't have an army behind us. We know security, we have layouts, and we have the Force bribed just enough to get away with some minor things. Any questions?"
There's a creaking above us. One boarded hole suddenly gives and a body falls into one of the stalls of the ex-women's bathroom. The door swings shut with a bang and locks. We wait a few seconds. Suddenly, the sound of a fight comes out to us, punches and all. Moron is beating himself up.
I'm about to go over, open it up, and give him a swipe of my sword, but two gunshots blast through the door to the stall. Silence. A heavy thud into the toilet bowel and then a flush makes everyone but Dais look puzzled as all hell. The door clicks to unlocked and Reno and I rush over. We're about to let whoever the second body that came from nowhere was have it, but the door swings open and we see a confusing sight.
Guy Who Fell From Ceiling has been shot through the chest and has his head in the toilet bowel, crushed under the seat. But then, there stands Jinaisim with his gun, drying his hand and it off with a paper towel and looking very pissed. "Bastard blew the surprise."
Reno cracks him one in the knee with the mag-rod.
Fucking morons.